


As Long As You're Mine

by LouLa



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Consensual Infidelity, Hair-pulling, M/M, Manhandling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:15:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouLa/pseuds/LouLa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's obvious pretty quickly to Brandon that Shawzy isn't coming home with him that night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Long As You're Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [popfly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/gifts).



> For Liz. Because she's the ~~best~~ worst.
> 
> Thanks to Danielle for looking it over.
> 
> Basically it all happened because of [this](http://24.media.tumblr.com/d3ff8039a7e92e6872801145fa569097/tumblr_mp2e0kgsLt1qfice8o1_500.png) Saad/Shaw picture that Liz decided to say things about. I wrote this but I still haven't forgiven her for it.

It's obvious pretty quickly to Brandon that Shawzy isn't coming home with him that night. He knows it when he bumps his shoulder into Shawzy's in the hall and Shawzy kind of bounces off the wall and frowns at Brandon but doesn't actually say or do anything.

There's no deliberation or hesitation behind it when he catches Saader's eye in the dressing room a few minutes later. Once he knows he has Saader's attention, he glances over at Shawzy, where he's slowly taking his gear off, shoving each piece into his locker haphazardly, most of it not going where it actually belongs anyway. He's not running around, half-undressed, chirping in everyone's ear like he usually would be, and that's the dead giveaway.

Brandon looks to Saader, watches the comprehension dawn across his face, and then raises a questioning eyebrow at him when he looks back Brandon's way. Saader nods minutely, wearing a resolute and calm expression.

And that's that. He'll take care of Shawzy tonight. There's nothing more to it. On nights like this, when Shawzy's got nothing left to give, Saader is the one to take him home. It's not common, not the usual for Shawzy, but sometimes, his tank actually does get low and he's left to run on fumes. But Saader is there for the times that it does happen, and it's not like Brandon doesn't want Shawzy just as much when he isn't quite himself ― Brandon wants him always, and that's pretty much the problem. Saader is better at keeping Shawzy calm, at not working him up, and Brandon isn't.

That's what everyone who isn't Saader doesn't seem to understand. They think that Brandon is the one that knows how to get Shawzy to calm down, but it's the opposite. He knows how to work Shawzy up, how to really get him going until he wears himself out enough to stop being obnoxious. Brandon's a pusher, and so is Shawzy, and they push and push each other until one of them eventually breaks, and then it's left to start all over again.

Tired Shawzy and Brandon just don't work like the wild and crazy Shawzy and Brandon do. Because when Shawzy is tired and not running his mouth off or jamming himself into Brandon's space, he's trying to force himself to be that guy, only grumpier. And when Brandon finally gives in and pushes Shawzy down, holds him there and makes him _stay still and just go the hell to sleep already_ , Shawzy gets so defiant and blatantly refuses. He fights sleep like a toddler when he's with Brandon, blink-blink-blinking like his eyes aren't about to roll back in his head from exhaustion.

Brandon can't even begin to understand why he's that way, why he does it. He doesn't have the first clue how Shawzy's mind works or what he's thinking at any given time, but he does know that since he discovered how differently Shawzy acts around him and Saader, that this is the solution.

There's not much jealousy there to speak of, because it's what's best for all of them. Saader doesn't hate it, clearly, since he does it without complaining, seems perfectly happy to haul Shawzy home when he's dead on his feet. Shawzy doesn't seem to connect the dots that he's only ever really with Saader anymore when he's not being his bratty little self. And Brandon is good. He gets the wound-up, always-fighting, mouthy Shawzy almost every single day, and that's more than okay with him.

Fresh from the shower, drying off and putting his street clothes back on, Brandon keeps an eye out for them. Bickell is jawing away at him as they dress, something about a bar later, and Brandon agrees dumbly, not sure what exactly he's saying he'll do, but nodding along anyway.

He watches Shawzy get dressed, slow and contemplatively, like he's not sure why he's doing it. He probably just wants to crash. It makes Brandon want to drag him home, push him into their bed, and make him sleep for seventeen hours straight. But he knows. He knows that it never works that way, and Shawzy fights it, and fights Brandon ― always, constantly ― but he'll sleep for Saader. Saader just has that touch, that knack for him, and it settles Brandon to see them walk out together, Saader's arm looped around Shawzy's waist, Shawzy leaning into him and already letting his eyes get droopy.

Shawzy will be taken care of.

Brandon lets Bickell do the leading, the majority of the talking, and the elbowing when Brandon doesn't flirt back with the ladies that try to join their table. He makes his excuses and ducks out early, takes a cab home.

The house is quiet, too fucking quiet without Shawzy, and it just makes Brandon wonder what he's doing with Saader. Always wondering, and never really knowing. He thinks about it though, every single time, and he can guess what they're up to. He knows they're at Saader's place. Maybe they watched a movie or some shitty reality show. Shawzy is probably half on top of Saader, because he's not capable of sitting next to someone on a couch like a normal human, but that's where Saader would want him to be anyway, close, to touch and hold and kiss. Maybe they're in the bedroom already, Shawzy naked and sprawled across the bed, drowsy and quiet like he never is with Brandon.

Brandon shakes his head and walks back to the bedroom, ostensibly to get ready for bed, but he just ends up stripping down and picking up all of Shawzy's dirty laundry from the floor. And once he's got the laundry going, he makes the bed so he doesn't have to see Shawzy's unmade half when he goes to sleep later, or the empty water and Gatorade bottles he throws away, or the stack of Twilight novels that he puts in the closet which belong to Kaner and Shawzy is never going to actually read.

It's a little lonely, but mostly he's just avoiding the inevitable. He eats a sandwich leaning over the sink, starts the dishwasher, and switches the laundry to the dryer. The silence really sets in once he's got nothing to do, and the quiet makes it more difficult to ignore his half-hard dick.

He ends up in the bedroom again. Sitting down on the end of the bed, he turns on the TV and flips through the channels, but there's nothing on. Of course there's nothing that can keep his attention. The half of his mind that isn't focused on how badly he wants to jerk off is centered on what Saader and Shawzy are likely to be doing.

Brandon groans and shifts up toward the headboard, leaning back into the pillows. He keeps the TV on, volume turned low enough to be background noise to drown out the silence. The sweatpants he put on for bed come off.

It's easy enough to throw his arm over his eyes and breathe in the smell of Shawzy on the sheets. He can imagine Shawzy there with him, pushing at him and begging to be pushed back, pushed around, pushed _down_.

Brandon gets his fingers around his cock, thinking about his hands in Shawzy's hair, holding him in place to fuck his mouth. It's a good enough thought ― a vivid enough memory ― to get him all the way hard, but it evaporates quickly.

He knows what Saader's bedroom looks like; he's been over to Saader's plenty of times. He can picture Shawzy on Saader's bed, pliant and pale against Saader's dark sheets, clutching a pillow, gasping into it as Saader fucks him.

Brandon's cock jerks in his fist and he squeezes, biting off a moan. As much as there's not jealousy there, he kind of hates that he gets off so hard on the thought of anyone else fucking Shawzy. It shouldn't be such a turn on. Maybe if it were anyone but Saader fucking him, Brandon wouldn't be able to find it as hot as he does. But it's not ― not just anyone, it's Saader, and the way he takes care of Shawzy is something else entirely.

Shawzy would be so good for him, lie quiet and patient while Saader touched him all over, his shoulders and his back and his sides and hips, his legs. He'd be still in ways that Brandon has never seen him be, for Saader. So worn out, he'd open up easy, two fingers and three.

Brandon can barely imagine having all the time in the world with that soft heat around him, so used to Shawzy bucking under him, biting him, growling at him to hurry the fuck up. It makes his dick leak to think about going as slow as he wanted, pulling out and leaving Shawzy open and empty, to fill back up when he felt like. Saader gets to do that.

“Fuck,” Brandon swears, wiping pre-come on the sheets when his phone chimes and he sees Shawzy's name on the screen.

Confused, he reads the message asking him if he's awake. Brandon wonders why Shawzy's still awake when he should be fast asleep by now if he's with Saader. He frowns harder when he hears banging on the front door. Sighing, he sits up on the bed and hooks his sweatpants with his foot, pulling them closer to slip back on. His dick is obviously still hard, tenting the fabric out, but whoever the fuck is at the door will just have to deal with it.

“All right, hold on,” he yells when the pounding on the door only gets louder and more persistent.

He angles his body to be mostly hidden behind the door when he opens in. It's useless though, because it's just Shawzy, who shoves past him.

“Can't find my fucking keys. What took you so fucking long?” Shawzy grumbles. His eyes rake over Brandon's body, taking in the fact that he's shirtless, likely a little flushed and sweaty, not to mention hard in his pants.

Shawzy's face clouds over as he turns on his heel, headed for their bedroom. Amused, Brandon follows. And Shawzy is blatantly checking for whoever he thinks Brandon was fucking when he showed up, and isn't even slightly ashamed of it. It doesn't bother Brandon much, seeing him check their bed and then the bathroom, rage all over his weary face.

“Looking for something?” Brandon asks, smirking, palming himself through his sweats.

Shawzy gapes a little bit, slow on the uptake. He seems to be more focused on what Brandon is doing with his hands than the words that are coming out of his mouth. He blinks though, looks away from Brandon's dick, and scowls at the smug look on Brandon's face.

“You cleaned up, you look and smell like sex. I'm looking for _someone_ ,” Shawzy says. His voice is scratchy; he's so clearly pissed off, and it's for no reason.

Brandon moves forward until he's right up against the heat of Shawzy's body. He smells freshly showered, and his hair is a little damp still. He's the one who was fucking someone else tonight, not Brandon, but he's not going to call him out on that. Brandon slides his hand down Shawzy's side, to clutch at his hip and rock him forward against Brandon's dick. He kisses his neck.

“I cleaned up because you're a fucking slob. I smell like sex because I was in the middle of getting myself off. You interrupted me.” He punctuates his words by shoving Shawzy back onto the bed. He doesn't catch himself and bounces, caught off guard.

Brandon has to remind himself that Shawzy was exhausted to begin with, he's probably even more tired now, after not settling down with Saader like he was supposed to. He looks flushed and a little confused, pushing himself up to glare at Brandon.

“I lost my fucking keys,” Shawzy says nonsensically.

“We'll worry about it tomorrow.”

His glare only sharpens though. “If I would have had them, I could have caught you.”

Brandon laughs at that, leaning down over Shawzy. “Want to watch me jerk off?”

“Fuck yes,” he answers, surging up to kiss Brandon. He bites into the kiss, like he always does, and Brandon groans, gets a hand around the back of his neck to kiss him harder.

Brandon strips him down to his underwear and shoves him up to the pillows before he gets back to where he'd been before Shawzy had shown up. The only difference now is Shawzy leaned against his side, one leg crossed over Brandon's, and his fingers teasing at the cut of Brandon's hip.

With one arm wrapped around Shawzy, he palms at his ass as he jerks himself off, watching Shawzy's eyes droop precariously. It doesn't take long to get back to what he was thinking about before, even with Shawzy right there. He slips his hand under the band of Shawzy's underwear and spends a couple of seconds squeezing his ass before he works up the courage to slide a finger between. The proof is right there against his fingertip, and he comes all over himself feeling the slick, used rim of Shawzy's hole.

Shawzy grumbles something unintelligible and passes out before Brandon even has a chance to wipe himself off. As badly as he wants to sink his finger inside, dry where Shawzy is wet and ready, he doesn't. He gets himself cleaned up without jostling Shawzy too much and falls asleep right there with him.

―

It's only about six hours later that he wakes up, and that's really fucking unfortunate because it's not an alarm that he has to be up for to wake him. It's Shawzy ― or more accurately, Shawzy's mouth. Normally he wouldn't complain about Shawzy blowing him first thing in the morning, but six hours isn't enough sleep for him, and it most definitely wasn't enough for an exhausted Shawzy.

Brandon doesn't know if Shawzy realizes that he's awake, and he just lets himself lie back and enjoy it for a few minutes before he grabs a fistful of Shawzy's hair and drags him up. He fights it, clinging onto Brandon's hips and trying to distract him by swallowing him down until his nose is flush with Brandon's skin. It almost works, but Brandon is determined. He yanks Shawzy off, uses his size to get Shawzy up the bed and on his back, underneath him. He wipes the excess spit off Shawzy's mouth before he kisses him.

“Why are you up so early?” Brandon asks, laughing when Shawzy tries to wrap his legs around Brandon's waist and flip them over but fails.

The usual glint in Shawzy's eye that wasn't there the night before is back full force and Brandon knows damn well that he's in for it as soon as Shawzy grinds up against him like that was his plan all along when he hooked his ankles behind Brandon's back. He's pretty convincing. 

“Wanted to blow you, make up for yesterday.”

“We're good,” Brandon says. Shawzy tries to kiss him, but Brandon pushes his face away with one hand. He knows damn well what Shawzy can do to get his way.

“You don't want a blowjob?” Shawzy is incredulous, staring at Brandon like he's crazy. Maybe he is.

He grins anyway, slow and promising. “No. I want to fuck you, and then I want to go back to sleep, and in a few hours I'll take a blowjob with my breakfast.”

“That's a bit demanding, don't you think?”

“Maybe,” Brandon concedes, but Shawzy doesn't try to stop him when he leans in to kiss him. There's no protest when Brandon gets them both naked, and Shawzy goes over onto his front easy enough for Brandon.

The pale expanse of his back is too good to leave unmarked. Brandon kisses the back of Shawzy's neck before he sinks his teeth into the meat of his shoulder. Underneath him, Shawzy groans and uses the headboard for leverage to push back against Brandon, craning his neck to glare. Smirking, Brandon moves lower, sucking marks into Shawzy's skin between his shoulder blades and down the curve of his spine.

There are bruises on Shawzy's hips that fit the exact shape of Brandon's hands. They're faded but he lines his fingers up more on instinct than anything. It's a perfect fit, and he pulls Shawzy back against him before he leans in to bite another mark into him.

Shawzy doesn't say anything, just lets him keep going, occasionally trying to break Brandon's hold to rock down against the bed, but Brandon keeps him held tightly in place. Brandon knows from experience that if he let him go, Shawzy would already have a wet patch on the bed beneath him.

Brandon smacks him on the ass before he finally shoves his hips down against the bed, getting a moan from Shawzy. He can't move much under Brandon's weight as Brandon stretches out over the top of him to dig the lube out of the bedside table, but he tries anyway, sounding almost desperate as he fails to get any friction. Brandon keeps him pinned longer than he would really have to, but it's all worth it with the way Shawzy is practically whining for it.

It's obvious Shawzy was fucked the night before when he pushes a finger into him, easy. He doesn't wait to add a second and leaves it at that, teasing him a little longer every time Shawzy demands for him to hurry the fuck up.

Brandon holds him down again when he lines his dick up to Shawzy's hole. Shawzy is swearing at him, and Brandon can see how red his face is where it's turned half into the pillows. 

“Brandon,” Shawzy moans when Brandon pushes into him all at once.

It makes Brandon freeze a little, the way it always does after Shawzy has been with Saader. Makes him wonder. He's only ever heard Shawzy call Saader by his last name or his nickname, but he wonders if he calls him Brandon in bed. He wonders if Shawzy likes it, being fucked by two guys with the same first name.

They're not easy to get confused, Brandon knows. Saader is so different with Shawzy than Brandon himself is. But Brandon can't help but wonder if Shawzy thinks of Saader sometimes when Brandon is fucking him, and the other way around. If when Shawzy is moaning for Brandon while Saader is fucking him he's really thinking about someone else.

It still isn't jealousy, exactly. Possessiveness, maybe, though not enough to make him ever want to stop what they're doing. It's more a reminder ― of who he's with, who's fucking him ― when he marks up Shawzy's other shoulder as he fuck him, hard and deep. It makes Brandon's stomach go tight to think that Saader was exactly where he is now not too long ago, with Shawzy hot around his cock.

“Fuck,” he grunts, freeing up a hand to pull Shawzy up off the bed, to find his dick leaking against the sheets.

Shawzy holds himself up, keeps himself steady for Brandon to fuck him and jerk him off at the same time. He gets loud when he comes, clenching the blankets in his fists, going blindingly tight around Brandon, body rippling with it when he shoots all over their sheets. Brandon stays deep, just letting the feeling of Shawzy bucking back against him push him over the edge.

It's easy to fall back asleep; Brandon is exhausted. It's not surprising to him when he wakes up a while later to an empty bed and the smell of burnt pancakes.

―

Inevitably, Shawzy crashes again just a week later. He's due for a huge media scrum, but luckily, Crow had a big night and most of the journos are on the other side of the room. Shawzy's going down hard and fast, and Brandon can't get Saader's attention. It takes him going over to Saader and telling him to get Shawzy out of there. Saader frowns and rushes through the rest of his routine before he guides a sagging Shawzy out the back.

Everyone seems a little confused on where Shawzy is after that, but Brandon just smiles and jokes and they settle for interviewing him.

Shawzy doesn't come home that night and he doesn't show up the next morning either. Brandon texts him at noon and doesn't get a response but Shawzy shows up an hour later, and Brandon leans him over the back of the couch and fucks him.

They're both still naked, getting the couch all sweaty and undoubtedly stained, watching TV, when Shawzy looks up at him. “You know sometimes I go home with Saad.” He sounds unsure.

Brandon smiles and pets over the top of Shawzy's head, down the back of his neck, between his shoulder blades, and up again, twisting Shawzy's hair between his fingers. “Yeah, I know,” Brandon answers.

Shawzy sighs a little and leans back into the hand that Brandon has in his hair. Which works perfectly to expose the long column of his throat and all the places for Brandon to put his teeth. “Sometimes he fucks me.”

“Yeah, I know,” Brandon repeats, watching Shawzy's Adam’s apple bob when Brandon pulls his head back further by the hold on his hair.

“I didn't tell you before because I wasn't sure you were serious, and then I wasn't sure if I was serious.”

“We're both serious,” Brandon says plainly.

“But Saader...” Shawzy cuts off with a gasp when Brandon twists, pulling his hair.

“It's fine. We'll talk about it again if something changes.” He leans in and mouths at Shawzy's neck. He's being too docile for Brandon's liking so he sinks his teeth into the point of Shawzy's jaw, where he's already bruised from fighting on the ice a couple of nights ago. It has to hurt, and Shawzy makes a choked sound and shoves Brandon away. He follows quickly though, straddling Brandon's thighs, and he looks happy as he digs his nails into Brandon's shoulders.

“Just as long as everyone knows all the marks on me are yours,” Shawzy accuses.

“Just as long as everyone knows you're mine,” Brandon amends.

Shawzy's grin goes feral right before he says, “Yeah,” and kisses Brandon.


End file.
